


pinky rings up to the moon

by blifuys



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Escorts, Anal Sex, Bad Matchmaking, Bokuto and Akaashi are supportive friends, Double Life, Friends to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, How Do I Tag, M/M, Slow Build, alternate title: 24k tragic, babys first porn, don't believe me just watch!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 06:42:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20253838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blifuys/pseuds/blifuys
Summary: But the city was always alive. There was always someone out there who was still awake in those twinkling little lights, and it gave Kuroo a comfort that he wasn’t fully alone.In which Kuroo falls in love, and he falls hard for the man that gave him so much, and yet spoke so little.  (or: the one where being friends with Bokuto either blesses you or kills you.)





	pinky rings up to the moon

**Author's Note:**

> I'm dead, this has been in my drafts since early July and after thinking over it, I've decided to post it!
> 
> Behold: bad fanfic!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and if you liked this fic, please leave a comment! ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

_Oh, it’s you again._

_Don’t you think you should be all tucked up at home by now? It’s getting late._

_You know this is my job._

_That I do. _

Kuroo loved this time of the night, where the clouds outlined in the sky from the shining city lights beaming – like a city of stars burning furiously. There was a lot to be desired when you lived in the urban jungle, considering the natural stresses that its inhabitants inherited.

But the city was always alive. There was always someone out there who was still awake in those twinkling little lights, and it gave Kuroo a comfort that he wasn’t fully alone.

Just like how under the same lamp post, he waited, allowing the soft hum of the city to surround him as he waited for someone, long after the upright citizens of the world had retired into their perfect, spotless little shells – _you’ve worked hard today_s to everyone who worked in skyscrapers that reached into the heavens.

Yeah, that life wasn’t for him.

It was raining tonight, but that only made the wait relaxing. It didn’t bother Kuroo that the legs of his jeans were slightly damp from the splashing puddles as he walked. The smell and the rush of the rain against his umbrella only made him feel even more alive, stimulating all five of his senses. In the blur of the storm, it was impossible to make anything out – but that was alright, really.

He was waiting for someone, and he wouldn’t move until he could see _him_. He had waited all week, of course, counting down the moments as his life rotated constantly around suits, back-to-back meetings and near-overdoses on caffeine every single day.

Waiting, diligently working hard so that he could see Hotaru again each Friday night. But tonight, he didn’t have to wait that long, despite being quite happy to. 

Slowly, emerging from the curtain of rain in the dark, a tall figure slowly approached Kuroo, his hands shoved in the pockets of that dark brown trench coat that hung off his lanky frame. But there was no mistaking those gorgeous golden-brown eyes that stayed trained on the older man.

The man stopped in front of him, his hand gripped firmly onto the handle of the umbrella that shielded him from the storm, as rainwater trickled off the tips in what seemed to be everlasting streams.

“Fancy seeing you here, ‘Tarucchan,” Kuroo couldn’t help himself but to smirk then, finding it impossible to hide the bubble of euphoria that began to form in his chest. “It’s good weather to sleep in. You should be home by now.”

“Haha, very funny,” Hotaru reached up to adjust the wire frame, pushing it up his nose bridge as those long and elegant fingers slide against the skin. Kuroo couldn’t stop watching him, finding his every movement so _ethereal_ that it was highly possible that the other man wasn’t even human. “Did you remember to stock up the condoms this time?”

“Of course, I even got the ones you like the most,” The raven-haired man slid his hand into his jean pocket so nonchalantly, casual in his bid to silently tell Hotaru that he was _smooth_, _he didn’t care much for this_ – but even then he had the suspicion that the blonde man had long figured him out already. “You gotta feel good too, you know!”

Silence, and there was only the rain around them getting stronger and stronger as the showers thundered against concrete and road. But he caught it, over the naturally pouty-lips that seemed the never smile, the corners turned up ever so slightly. He was amused, whether in Kuroo’s favour or not, he would never know.

But seeing that small smile was enough for him. Anyone could ask Kuroo, and he would surely consider this _score one for Kuroo Tetsurou!_

“Let’s go, Kuroo-san.” Hotaru turned his back towards Kuroo, already beginning to walk down the street like he already knew where they were going. Truth is, he did. For the past year or so, Kuroo had always met him right here as a type of courtesy call, escorting him towards his apartment in the first few weeks of them meeting each other.

But of course, before long, Hotaru had begun to walk himself to the humble little flat that Kuroo resided in, already so conditioned and familiar with all the turns and landmarks that they had to walk by before they reached the small two-storied apartment building behind that shitty red-brick half-wall that separated the area from the sidewalk.

“You think Mittens will be here tonight?” Kuroo asked, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of them as they walked, passing by the clock out on the corner before his building. Hotaru glanced to him for a moment, and he found it extremely hard to read whatever was written on his face at that moment.

His eyes weren’t as tight as when he first met him a year ago. Those lips were soft, lax even. But no matter how he tried to analyse him like he would with a data spreadsheet at work, there was no solving the ever elusive Hotaru, with how closed off he was to the world.

But that just made him even more beautiful.

The both of them stopped momentarily as Hotaru glanced to the left, taking a quick peek at the tree that a certain black-furred cat loved to lay under, and more often than not the both of them would stop by the Family Mart nearby – purchasing a small tin of mushy cat food before they went off on their own business after playing with the feline for ten minutes or so.

But tonight? Nothing, and it was clear that there wasn’t going to be any cat waiting for the both of them in this weather.

“Probably off finding shelter. Maybe we’ll see him next time,” Hotaru’s shoulders sagged, even if just a little, and he began to walk again with Kuroo in tow. “A colleague told me about a healthier brand with more nutrition, we can try that one and see how it goes.”

“Text me the brand! Maybe I can start feeding him with that!”

See, there was always a next time when it came to the both of them. This was just an arrangement that had already been perfected within the first few weeks of them meeting. It was a weekly thing, where Kuroo would have texted him days before Friday even came about, and they would both meet under that lamp post out in the front without fail.

Perfection to the point of comfort. That was how Kuroo felt about all of this.

The door to the apartment opened with a click, and the orange light from the lamp posts outside beamed a neat little orange rectangle on the floor, their silhouettes half merging into one misshapen blob as Kuroo made his way into the room, running a hand against the wall as he located for the light switch.

_Click_, and the light filled the room, illuminating the space enough for the both of them to be able to see.

“Kuroo-san,” Hotaru pulled his umbrella shut, shaking off the droplets before he pulled off his shoes at the entrance, leaving his belongings rested against the wall. The tall, lanky man stepped took one step into the house, glanced around, before he sighed in exasperation. “What did I tell you about over-working again?”

The man in question looked up from his spot at in his kitchen, quiet sheepish as he flicked the switch on his electric kettle, filling the air with a slight whirring sound.

It was almost impossible for any human being to infer that Kuroo had taken on some extra work in the last few days, but with how often Hotaru came around? It was as clear as day to him. The apartment wasn’t in shambles, but it wasn’t as clean as it usually was.

Stacks of paper that looked like they were going to topple over strewn about the room, alongside dishes with the sides coated in the leftover sauces and rice that were once held in them. He didn’t know how and_ when _Hotaru had started to notice things like these, but every time he entered the house, he seemed to catch little things that preluded him to how Kuroo had been in the time they had been apart.

It was something so small, but it made the businessman _immensely happy_ that he held a degree of importance in the other man’s heart, no matter how small.

“Ah, you caught that?” Kuroo smiled sheepishly as his fingers pulled on his tie, loosening a little bit. “Sorry, ‘Tarucchan. There was some extra work I wanted done before tonight, so I could be free! Gotta give my Hotaru all my attention, right~?”

Hotaru tsked and turned away, already furrowing his brows as he began to pull off his trench coat, revealing his simple navy blue shirt and jeans underneath.

“Stop joking around, Kuroo-san.”

Because of course he thought it was a joke. For a very long time, Kuroo himself didn’t know how Hotaru would take to that information. He didn’t know how he would take these feelings of his, and so he chose the safe method – to make Hotaru think that he was joking, giving him the chance to tell him things like this as much as he wanted.

“Mm, don’t you know I love you, ‘Tarucchan?” Kuroo smirked as he tipped a pot of water, the warm water filling up the mug as steam penetrated the air. It was his routine, of course. Whenever the man came over, he would make his favourite oolong tea, letting him wind down a bit before they continued with their night.

“No,” Hotaru gently took the mug, timidly blowing on it before he took a sip. “I don’t know at all.”

Kuroo loved watching him like this. His lids were fluttered close, his blonde lashes spilling across pale cheeks so daintily. He had seen a lot more of course, but quiet moments like this constantly reminded him how beautiful the lithe, ethereal man was.

And also, how much he wanted to ruin him, tease him, make Tarucchan show faces that he had never shown anyone else. That was just how much he wanted him to be _his_.

Hotaru put down the glass, and Kuroo’s eyes watched as a lone drop of tea rolled down his chin, swiftly wiped away with a quick brush of his hand against his face. It was such a quick movement, but that small movement sent warm spikes down his spine and into his abdomen, because _God ‘Taru is so beautiful and shit—_

“Alright. Shall we, Kuroo-san?” The quieter of the two spoke up, already making his way down the hallway. He had been here so many times that he was certain that Hotaru knew his house like the back of his hand. Whether that was a good thing or not, he’d think about that later. For now, he had things to do.

“Yeah, let’s go.” He turned, kettle and half-finished tea long forgotten as he rushed to catch up with the man of his dreams.

\---

Every weekend, Kuroo found himself tangled with Hotaru in bed.

There were many things that made him happy. Like finding huge fish for sale on the weekend market, or being able to leave work half an hour early so he could go home to curl up in his sofa as he watched volleyball matches (Bokuto would always ask his best friend something along the line of _did you see that super cool spike I did? Akaashi was so so cool and he—_So he definitely had to watch if not he’d be subjected to a very sad best friend. Not that he minded of course. Both of his best friends going pro? That was something he was really proud of!)

But being with Hotaru made him the happiest.

The blonde man lay on his back, lightly sprawled against Kuroo’s soft cotton bed as his arms curled around the raven-haired man’s neck, lips locked in a moment of passion.

“Hotaru-kun,” Kuroo murmured as he ran his hands along the man’s pale milky sides, earning a soft shudder from the long body against his. His lips pushed a little harder into Hotaru’s, and the more he kissed him, the more he wanted to sink into this feeling of love and lust, swallowed whole without any means of escape. “You’re gorgeous.”

There was no reply, aside from an exasperated grunt. Kuroo wondered if he had crossed the line in any way with that remark, but he felt himself get pulled down a little harder, deepening the kiss as their tongues pushed against each other. He felt at home like this, settled between milky thighs as he grinded his hips against his firm ass.

The blonde man broke the kiss, his face twisted into a frown while his arms kept themselves around Kuroo.

“Just get on with it,” Hotaru breathlessly snaps, beautiful golden-brown doe-eyes glaring up as he lightly bumped his heel against Kuroo’s back in an attempt to stop the embarrassing sex talk. “I’ll go soft if you wait any longer.”

“You seem pretty excited though,” Kuroo smirked as he slid his hand down, tracing a line down against his pure skin until it settled itself wrapped around the blonde man’s girth, squeezing very lightly and earning a soft moan from his partner. “I don’t think this would go soft anytime soon~.”

“Sh-shut up. I’m getting paid by the hour, dragging this on just puts a hole in _your_ wallet.” Hotaru groaned as he shivered, quietly spreading his legs a little further as if to tell Kuroo that yeah, it did feel good. _So what_.

That alone dragged Kuroo down from his happy high. All night, he had been so excited to see Hotaru, to hold him close by, to spend time with him. But he just had to forget that at the end of it all? He was hiring an escort. An escort that was paid, someone who probably didn’t really care that much about Kuroo in the first place besides his money.

But he could only hope.

Sucking in the panging in his heart and ignoring the sinking feeling in his chest, Kuroo’s smirk grew wider as he leaned in, pressing a soft and gentle kiss against his cheek.

“Impatience doesn’t necessarily get you what you want, you know,” He chuckled as he reached out for the white plastic bag he had placed on the side table, pulling out a small foil square and a little plastic from within its contents. “What if I just sent you home like this, hard and untouched?”

Yeah. For now, he’d pretend that Hotaru was his, and only his.

“You wouldn’t dare,” The escort bit out as his pale faced turned red, the man looking like he was going to hit Kuroo if given the chance. He was too annoyed to really focus on what Kuroo was doing, of course, doing everything he could to stop his client from potentially blue-balling him. “Oi, I swear if you do that I’ll—"

A lubed-up finger circled around his tight rim, and the sudden movement earned a soft gasp from the man pinned under Kuroo.

“Is this what you want, ‘Tarucchan?” He smirked, his eyes fully focused on Hotaru’s expression as he took in the way it twisted in fluster, his frown still seemingly permanent on his face as the other man tried so hard to deny the way Kuroo’s actions made him feel. “Or do you want more?”

It tugged at his hard, the way Hotaru pouted so cutely whenever Kuroo did something to tease him. He remembered their first nights together, where they had been so _quiet_, silent. It wasn’t until they got to know each other that sex had become so precious to Kuroo – these nights that gave Kuroo the intimacy he craved for in the form of a very beautiful man named Hotaru, so beautiful and graceful like his namesake.

Under him, the usually-calm-and-collected man looked away silently for a split second, as if mustering the energy to speak. Of course he would, Kuroo knew exactly what he was doing, if only to draw out those cute expressions that were so _Hotaru_.

“M-more, you idiot. You know exactly what I want,” He murmured, hands curling into fists as they lay next to his head, giving Kuroo a full view. “Stop teasing me already.”

“Oh, but I worked so hard this week! Won’t you let me have some fun, ‘Ta-ru-cchan~?”

At once, Kuroo pushed two fingers inside of him, stretching him out as he made sure he was thoroughly prepared for what was to come next. But for now, he was content with making his beloved writhe and squirm under him with pleasure.

“A-ah, it’s not enough,” Hotaru said, sounding very close to a whine as he squeezed his eyes shut, fists curling a little tighter in frustration as he desperately kept himself from outright _begging_. “Shit. I need m—ore. Crap…”

The moans that filled Kuroo’s ears were like music, frankly speaking. He could feel himself growing needier as he fingered the man a little longer, to the point where Hotaru was a frustrated panting mess. Satisfaction grew in his heart, having the knowledge that _he _was the one who caused Hotaru to look like that, to be such a blushing mess so close to the point of coming undone.

Who was he to keep his beloved from what he wanted?

“You’ve been a really good boy, Hotaru,” Kuroo whispered, finally pulling out his fingers. “I’ll reward you nicely.”

“S-shit. Hurry up, or I’ll just go home and jerk off myself!” The escort huffed, ever the temperamental man. But that was just his charm, someone who seemed so put together so easily coming undone with some teasing from Kuroo. To others he may have seemed distant, untouchable even, but Kuroo knew just which buttons to press.

“You won’t want to do that~.” Kuroo drawled, the sound of rubber snapping filling the air.

“You bastard, you think I wouldn’t da—ah…!” He was cut short by the feeling of something much thicker than fingers stretch him out, filling him as much as Kuroo possibly could. The feeling of the man squeezed up tight around him always proved to be too much for him, sending waves of pleasure throughout his body.

He didn’t want this to stop. He didn’t want anyone other than himself to be given this privilege of being inside of this gorgeous man.

He didn’t want _anyone_ to have Hotaru himself.

“Shit, you’re as tight as ever, aren’t you…?” Kuroo growled while he slowly began to pull out, only to slam into him as deep as he could. The moans from Hotaru were a guarantee that yeah, he was feeling just as good as Kuroo himself. “Fuck, I could do this all day.”

“You could—ah. Pay me more. Then I could be here as much as you want me to,” Hotaru tossed his head back as the raven-haired man thrusted into him over and over again, the look on his face so twisted with pleasure. “I’m at your beck and call.”

“God, fuck. Hotaru--!”

It always never took long for Kuroo to cum. With how _good_ sex with Hotaru felt, he always came with ease, instead going for as many rounds as he so pleased in the allotted time he had Hotaru for. Of course he always wished it was longer, but what could he do? Ask this escort to go out with him in the post-sex pillow talk?

Man, that would be incredibly awkward. _Hey ‘Tarucchan, I like you a lot, and I want to be boyfriends. Go out with me. _No doubt that would be shot down immediately without a second thought, and Kuroo would not just lose his crush, he’d lose a friend that he had come to love very much – with how he looked forward to chatting with Hotaru and the time he could spend to get to know the elusive escort of little spoken word.

He was so frustrated. He wanted him, he wanted him, he wanted him. But there was just no way to tell the man himself without losing anything dear to his heart.

“A-ah! Kuroo-san…! I’m--!”

Under him, the escort looked as if he was close to climax, his lips parted gently as moans erupted from his figure. A sudden intense wave of pleasure washed over Kuroo himself as he watched Hotaru’s pleasured face, and the more he thrusted, the closer he inched to climax.

“I—God. I’m cumming… Fuck—Hotaru!” Kuroo grunted as his head dipped down, his dark locks pressed against Hotaru’s cheek as he kept himself pressed up against the lanky man’s frame. He inched closer and closer until finally, he felt it. The way his body felt like it was blooming, the way his hips seemed to tremble as he finally came inside of Hotaru, bursting at the seams with the orgasmic feeling of bliss between the two of them.

When Kuroo winded back down to earth, he found himself being stared at from below, and if the white ribbons of cum that were spattered across Hotaru’s chest any indication, he would say that the escort himself quite thoroughly enjoyed himself too.

“Wow, I didn’t know you were so happy to see me,” He drawled again, smirking as he gently wrapped his fingers around Hotaru’s thin wrist, pulling his smooth hand up. Roughened lips pressed against the back of the milky pale hand while the cat-like man gazed down to the escort, his heart filled with love and longing for someone so close, yet so far away.

“Just tell me next time, Ho-ta-ru-chan~. Don’t be shy. I’ll make you feel really good.” Kuroo emphasised every syllable of his name, the teasing lilt to his voice growing with every word he spoke.

Although a pillow straight to the face was Hotaru’s response to that, he was pretty happy with their meetup today. And he knew that the escort was pretty happy too, because after wrestling with him enough to budge the soft pillow slightly out of the way, he caught it – a very small smile on Hotaru’s lips, curling up a little at the sides but enough to definitely say it was a smile.

\---

“Oi. Kuroo—Oiiii.” Kuroo found himself sitting on one of Bokuto’s soft couches a good five days after his last encounter with Kei, with thick fingers snapping in front of his face desperately trying to yank him back down to earth.

“Wh—What? Get your hands away—” He frowned as he pushed his friend’s hand away from his face, uncomfortable with how close the fingers were, “—From my face before I hit you.”

“Bro, you’ve been zoning out a lot lately, are you sick?” Ever the concerned best friend, Bokuto sat down next to Kuroo, the soft plush couch sinking further under the weight of the much heavier man. All those muscles had to weigh something, didn’t they?

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine! Why do you ask?” Kuroo tried his hardest to ignore the way Bokuto was staring at him, his large brows furrowed, making him look very much like an owl with those big, amber-brown eyes piercing into his soul in an effort to get him to spit out an honest reply.

“Cut the crap. I know something’s up!” Bokuto whined, beginning to pout as he gently shoved his shoulder up against Kuroo’s pushing the slightly longer body to the side over and over again. No matter how much his best friend tried to extract that information out of him, he knew damn well that there was no way he could tell him.

“He’s right, Kuroo-san,” Behind them, a gentle and deep voice spoke, signalling the entrance of Akaashi. “You haven’t been yourself as of late.”

Well, he wasn’t much of an _Akaashi_ anymore, and he was a _Bokuto_ by name now. The matching bands on Keiji’s and Bokuto’s fingers gently shine under the natural light pouring into the house, the shiny pristine metal glinting superbly without restraint. Even then, he found it hard to stop calling him that. Old habits died hard, after all, and Kuroo was one of the last ones who still called Akaashi by his maiden surname.

But damn, whenever Akaashi got himself involved, it was much harder to hide anything. The professional setter was an absolute whiz and seeing through lies and deceit, and trying to cover this up would be a big pain in the ass.

Forget volleyball, Akaashi had the makings of a high-profile lawyer. But that was just the risk he had to face when it came to his best friends, simply because he just _couldn’t tell them what was going on. _

His actions had consequences, and he learned the hard way after the first time he had told Bokuto about his crush back in high school, where the owl-like man had dragged _his own boyfriend_ into an all-out operation to get Kuroo a partner.

He didn’t know what Bokuto would do now that he was a world-famous ace volleyball player. Probably plaster confessions on billboards all over the country? Or hire blimps to hover over Tokyo with _“I love you, ‘Tarucchan, go out with me”_ written in the ugliest and flashiest font imagine.

Call him dramatic, but this was Bokuto. There was no telling what this airhead would do for his best friend. But yet, that was an absolute honor, and even if embarrassing, Kuroo appreciated the effort his best friend put into the friendship they both had. 

But for now, he’d keep this little crush of his to himself, at least until he could confirm that yes, there was a chance between them both, and that any interference by Bokuto and Akaashi would be successful and not cause him to lose one of the most beloved persons in his life.

“Guys, really, I’m fine,” Kuroo tried again, his voice firmer this time as he did his best to avoid having to answer truthfully. “I’m just a little tired lately.”

“With work? You _have _heard of a good work-life balance right,” Bokuto smirked as Akaashi took his place next to him, the beefier man slinging a thick arm over his husband’s shoulder as he pulled him closer, the smaller man responding without restraint as Akaashi tucked himself against his chest. “Fridays used to bro-time! You’ve been neglecting us~.”

Oh damn. He knew what was coming, and he tried so hard not to look at the man that was clearly shoving his face into Kuroo’s trying to get him to look at him directly. But he tried his hardest not to, he wouldn’t look, he wouldn’t look, hewouldn’tlookhewouldn’tlookhe—

With a wrong turn of his head, Kuroo ended up glancing directly into Bokuto’s face, noticing those big, owl-like eyes drooped so pitfully while his eyebrows furrowed in sadness, like a puppy that had been kicked.

And the _pout. _Oh crap. There was the pout.

“C’mon, bro. Talk to us, we’ll help you.”

The honesty from these two was a blessing for him. He wondered what had he done so right in his past life for him to have two wonderful people in his life like this, but no matter how grateful he was, the thought of telling them what he was going through held like a rock in his heart.

No matter what, he didn’t want to see the concern on their faces after being dumped, the silent self-blame they had placed directly on their shoulders after they tried so dang hard just to make Kuroo happy. He couldn’t and he wouldn’t put that pain in their hearts again, not after the last failed attempt they had.

“I… I just don’t want to get in between you guys!” Kuroo stammered as he pulled himself back from Bokuto’s armlock around his neck, knowing that the further he was, he more likely he was able to avoid telling the actual truth. No matter how bad he felt, he knew this was the only way out, for everyone’s best. “You guys barely have time with each other cause of work, right? Who am I to disturb that?”

The couple beside him paused, and Kuroo could almost see the gears turn in their heads. Before long, Bokuto’s lips spread into the biggest grin ever, pleased that his best friend was confiding in him like he was meant to do.

“Naw, dude! We see each other all the time, and we’re happy about that,” He crowed out loud as he waved his thick hand in front of him, “There’s no need for formalities! We’re always happy to have you around! In fact, come over next Friday, we could binge movies and eat Akaashi’s food!”

Under Bokuto’s arm, the lithe black-haired man made a slight movement, as his ever observant eyes stayed trained on Kuroo himself.

“Yes, you’re always welcome. I would be happy to make dinner next Friday.” He said, but his expression kept still, looking like a silent owl observing its surroundings, waiting to pounce.

“But, but. It’s, like, weird you know! Being the third wheel and all! Y’gotta respect the single ones, dude,” He could already feel the panic rise in his chest, already trying to make up excuses as to why he couldn’t make it next Friday, or _any _Friday in particular. He treasured that time he had with Hotaru, and the thought of missing one week with him made his heart ache with longing.

“Or is there something you’re not telling us, Kuroo-san?”

Like a knife that had suddenly sliced the warm feeling that had settled around the long-time best friends, Akaashi spoke up without relent, already directly addressing what Kuroo was trying so hard to keep hidden. It was firm, it was quick, and yet that simple sentence had made him internally panic the most in the time that the couple had began to interrogate him like this.

“Uh, no? I dunno what made you think there is, ha ha.” Kuroo gave his most nonchalant grin, or at least attempted to. “I’m just peachy!”

“Then, there’s no problem coming for dinner next Friday then, is there.”

God, when Akaashi sank his teeth into the situation, it was highly impossible to escape his hold. No matter how docile and quiet the man looked, he knew damn well that his long time best friend could be incredibly scary when he wanted to be, when he honed in on a single goal and charged forward with tact and elegance.

It was a wonder how he had ever fallen in love with Bokuto, but in hindsight, it wasn’t that bad. Kuroo envied the couple a lot – their trust and bond were everything that he had ever hoped for in his own relationships, but after several failed attempts at anything long-term, he had soon thrown in the towel.

He just didn’t want Hotaru to be written off as yet another unsuccessful attempt. He meant _so much more _to Kuroo than anyone else had ever been.

“C’mon, bro! Please? Pleasepleasepleaseplease—” Bokuto reached out and grabbed both of his friend’s wrists, beginning to shake his arms in hopes that he would finally come around and agree to their invitation. “We gotta have more bro-time together!”

The intense pressure from both of them, one with the desire to spend time with his best friend, and the other with the suspicion that Kuroo was hiding something from them, proved to be quite efficient at changing his mind, because he found himself agreeing to Friday’s plans in a heartbeat.

“Alright, alright, I’ll come. I’ll bring the wine!” He said, bouncing back to his playful demeanor that his friends knew and loved, and beside him, Bokuto tossed his arms into the air – hooting in victory. Akaashi’s gaze lingered on him for a second more before he turned back to focus on his husband, pulling himself away from the jostling man’s frame. 

Not that he _didn’t _want to spend time with his friends, mind you, he had missed them quite a bit. Life was very different when two of your best friends had gone pro, leaving you trapped in the corporate prison deceitfully disguised in pristine city skyscrapers. But not seeing Hotaru for two weeks made him feel quite sad. He had longed to hold him in his arms again, to hear the snarky man throw jabs back at Kuroo without difficulty, to be on the same wavelength as someone for the first time in a very, very long time.

Maybe it was for the best. He didn’t know whether the thing he had with Hotaru (if it even _was a thing at all_) was sustainable, or even possible between the both of them.

If you love something, let it go. That was the saying, wasn’t it? Was this where he had to stop, before anything could snowball into unmanageable chaos? He didn’t know.

The night was young, and the three of them spent it chatting over everything and nothing at the same time, while thoughts of Hotaru lingered in Kuroo’s mind – aching for some form of conclusion after months and months of unresolved confusion.

\---

On Thursday, the sound of his phone vibrating merrily on the desk next to him snapped him back to reality, after absentmindedly working on paperwork for the last few hours. The screen lit up with the ugliest picture he had of Bokuto, one where he was drunk out of his mind and was clearly half naked at a party that they had been to. That had been hilarious.

Quickly, Kuroo snatched it up, before hitting the answer button and pressing the slim device to his ear, speaking in a hushed voice.

“Hello?”

“Kuroo, dude! About this Friday…”

“Dude, you can’t call me at work, we talked about this.” Kuroo muttered under his breath, but the words didn’t hold much malice towards the owl-like man on the other side of the line. Instead, he got up from his chair, pushing it back before he quickly made his way out of the office.

“I know, I know, but this is important, dude!”

Kuroo sighed, knowing that once Bokuto had something on his mind, there was no stopping him until he finally told someone, no matter the circumstance or situation in which said person was in. _It’s one of his charms_, Kuroo guessed, _How did Akaashi ever fall in love with him, I’ll never know._

“Alright, what’s up?” He resigned himself to fate, leaning back against the beige wall next to the entrance as he silenced himself, “You gotta hurry, I got things to do, Bo.”

“Okay, so about this Friday, Keiji and I were talking about how you told us that you _despised_ being the third wheel—”

“Hol’up, I never said I despised—”

“After you _bared your heart_ and broke down in tears about losing your best friends to each other—”

“I will hang up, don’t test me.”

“Okay, okay! We’re inviting another friend along.”

“What?” Kuroo almost yelled, quickly bringing his voice down to a softer volume before the people inside the office could hear him, “What do you mean you’re bringing a friend, didn’t you say we were gonna chill together?”

“Yeah, I know! But listen, we think that it’s time you go and meet new people,” The voice on the phone crackled slightly, the lack of signal in the hallway making itself apparent on call, “When was the last time you hung out with Kenma?”

“That’s _different,_ Kenma’s in the States, I can’t call him always!”

“And what about Kai? Yaku? Le—”

“Say that name and you’re going to be castrated the next time I see you.”

“The point is,” Bokuto ignored him, speaking over that threat that he knew damn well was empty. Which best friend would ever hurt _him_, Bokuto ‘I-Am-The-World’s-Number-One-Best-Friend’ Koutarou? The man wore that title like a damn king, and Kuroo would never dare to hurt him. “We don’t want you to spend your days without companionship!”

“I have a _job_, I know plenty of people here! Like, I bet you that at least one of them will agree to spend some time with me if I asked!”

“So why haven’t you?”

Damn it. No matter how dense and stupid Bokuto could be, he made some good points occasionally. When Bokuto wanted to, he could be incredibly smart and logical—quite a far cry from the Bokuto that everyone else knew and loved.

He just knew that there was no running from this, no running from the friends that cared about him so badly and worried endlessly over his seemingly-eternal loneliness. His shoulders dropped slightly as he loosened his tense frame up, and he exhaled.

“Alright, invite them over.”

“Nuh uh, you can’t run away from th—did you just say yes?”

“Yeah, I did. Just invite them over before I change my mind, Bo.”

The hollering heard on the other side of the line couldn’t be louder, and the smile that began to spread across his lips was filled with gratitude, thankful for the friends that mattered so much to him in the end.

\---

“Is he here yet?” Kuroo asked as he strolled into Bokuto’s apartment, a few plastic bags hanging off his arms from the impromptu convenience store detour he made, for a bunch of drinks that his friends had forgotten to buy on their grocery store trip.

“Nope. Tsukishima-kun said he’ll be here in ten minutes, the traffic’s bad tonight,” Akaashi piped up from his spot on the couch, staying still while his eyes stayed trained on the back of Bokuto’s head in the kitchen. Sure, his husband was pretty good at cooking, but being married doesn’t mean someone’s stupidity goes away. “Sorry for making you run all the way to the store.”

“It’s not a problem at all, Akaashi!” He said as he opened the fridge, sliding the bottles one by one into the little plastic rack by the side. The smell of fish wafted through the air and it made Kuroo want to snatch the food off the stove and run, but he wouldn’t. He was, after all, a fine man of class and dignity. “God, Bo. That smells _so damn good_.”

“Right? Akaashi got a fresh batch from the marketplace today! He was craving seafood, hehe.” The man at the stove grinned as he flipped the fish over, the sound of sizzling hot oil making Kuroo even hungrier than he was. Before he allowed temptation to run free, he quickly stepped out, returning back to the sofa where Akaashi sat, his eyes trained on the evening news.

“So,” Kuroo began to drawl, “How did you get to know Tsukishima-kun? I’ve heard stories of him from Bo, but I wanna know from you.”

He was curious, of course. Someone new to meet? Someone he might get along with? Kuroo prided himself on being popular amongst his coworkers and friends, but having someone new to interact with was always fun! Akaashi continued to watch the screen in front of him, but he spoke, voice as elegant and soft as ever.

“Tsukishima-kun’s our friend from high school. We were all close until we split ways after graduation,” He said, ignoring the way Kuroo was shuffling around on the couch like a cat, trying to make himself comfortable on the leather seat. “We kept in touch while we were in college, and he moved back to Tokyo once he finished his degree.”

“Ooh, is he as ambitious as Bo makes him out to be? Is he cool and suave like I am?” He grinned, tilting his head back proudly as he stuck his nose in the air. “It’s alright if he isn’t though. After all, perfection takes a long time to master~.”

The deadpan look that Akaashi gave Kuroo was the only answer needed. He doesn’t stare for very long, and within seconds, he turned his head back to the TV in front of him, finally recovering after that nonsensical outburst.

“He’s quiet, a pretty intelligent young man. I think he might get along with you though, despite you being… you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean.” Kuroo leaned back against the backrest, tasting the sourness on his tongue from Akaashi’s direct jab. The sheer _audacity _of this man sometimes, _the nerve_. How could anyone use _him_ as an insult? He had the face of Adonis, charismatic smoulder that could wreck anyone he so chose, and here he was—using _him_ as an insult?

“Don’t make that face, Kuroo-san. You know damn well what I mean.” God, that bitchy smirk that began to show itself was _infuriating_, and he opened his mouth—ready to give him a peace of his mind when suddenly, the doorbell rang—a jolly chime echoing through the house.

“Don’t think this is over.” He got up, narrowing his eyes at Akaashi who simply shrugged him off, and he made his way straight to the door.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” He called out, thoughts running through his head about this mysterious Tsukishima that Bokuto and Akaashi talked about all week long. Stories of how Tsukishima managed to get Bokuto to confess his love by taunting him, and how they would probably not be together if he hadn’t intervened out of annoyance and frustration.

And yet, both their accounts seem to conflict each other.

How was the Tsukishima who was the president of the debate club the same Tsukishima who was quiet, soft-spoken and reserved? How was the Tsukishima who let only the most deserving people into his heart the same Tsukishima who once begged Akaashi for the limited edition Dinosaur gatcha he had won at a shop in Akihabara?

Either this guy had some twin that constantly swapped places with him, or he had the serious case of gap moe.

Whatever it was, he wouldn’t judge his character until he saw for _himself_ who he was.

Kuroo stopped before the apartment’s metal door, taking a deep breath, before his large hand hooked itself around the lever handle, pushing down and opening the door up. It wasn’t anything like what you might see in movies, where time slowed down and sparks flew or all that mushy gushy bullshit that he didn’t believe in.

Instead, his heart skipped a beat as his eyes widened, and he felt all the wind get knocked out of him in one shot—when his eyes rested on ‘Tsukishima’.

Before him stood a beautiful tall blonde man, looking so casual in a simple shirt and jeans combo—golden-brown eyes hidden behind the thin wire-framed glasses that perched perfectly on his nose.

Hotaru never dressed like this. He was always so prim and proper, and he never wore glasses. The Hotaru he knew always wore a coat. Those gorgeous eyes were always clear and bright without any hindrance to them, and he always wore such a silently neutral expression.

But he wasn’t mistaken, he couldn’t be. Even if he looked different, the person in front of him couldn’t be anyone other than _him. _The body that tangled itself against his every Friday, the soft pale skin that bloomed pink in the most heated of moments when they were so close to climax—there was _nobody_ that Kuroo knew better than him.

“Hota--?!” Before he could say his name out loud, the man in front of him quickly lunged forward, slapping his pale hands over his mouth as he leaned in, frowning hard with his eyes wide in panic.

“Listen. They don’t know what I do. Hush.” His voice was hushed, brisk with warning to _shut the fuck up or we’ll both be in trouble._ Clearly, he hadn’t expected this either, and the sudden conundrum that they both found themselves in was puzzling and confusing.

“Tsukki! Tsukkkkiii!” From within, Bokuto crowed, and loud thumping footsteps quickly got louder and louder behind Kuroo. Swiftly dropping the panicked face and pulling himself together, Tsukishima cleared his throat, focusing his gaze on the two people that had appeared in the doorway behind the cat-like man.

“Tsukishima-kun, nice to see you again,” Akaashi smiled, so hospitable toward his long time friend that it sort of offended Kuroo, “I hope it wasn’t too much of trouble for you to get here?”

“Not at all, Akaa-san,” Tsukishima—Kuroo had to get used to matching that name to that face—shook his head, nodding his head in greeting towards his friends. “Forgive my tardiness.”

“TSUKKI,” The buffest of the bunch pushed himself past the others, before he quickly grabbed the lanky blonde’s arm, pulling him into the apartment—fully ignoring his friend’s demands to unhand him and _stop dragging me in let me go—_, “YOU’RE JUST LIKE OL’ KUROO HERE, you never have time for us anymore! What gives with you busy adults?!”

“Unlike you, Bokuto-san,” Tsukishima yanked his arm free, pulling himself away from Bokuto as he quickly reached up to adjust his glasses, no doubt needing to after being so roughly handled, “My job doesn’t consist of volleyball games day in and day out, I have tons of things to do, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, you office-types are _boring_,” Bokuto pouted at his junior’s sass, folding his arms indignantly while the taller man set down his things, beginning to make himself comfortable, “You guys don’t ever do anything fun! Right, Kuroo?”

“Hey, I’ll have you know my life is _plenty_ of fun.” He shot back at him, brows furrowed as he tried his hardest to make sense of what happened here. First things first, he had no idea that Hotaru’s name was Tsukishima Kei—not that he really asked in the first place. Ever since their first meeting, he didn’t really consider that he had a life outside of escorting services, friends and whatnot.

Hotaru had always been a mystery to him, a puzzle waiting to be solved—but Tsukishima was a whole other phenomenon yet to be discovered. If anything, it was quite impossible that the Tsukishima in the stories was _his_ Hotaru.

The dinner table was oddly quiet. He could feel it, that tension hanging in the air, so thick that even Akaashi seemed at a loss as to what to do to dispel it. Kuroo felt bad, of course. This awkwardness had nothing to do with him nor Bokuto, it was simply a trick played by the Universe’s most bored deity at the moment, and the ensuing embarrassment from the both of them was enough to quell anyone’s lack of entertainment.

And of course he had to be seated _right in front _of the man that made him so nervous. The closeness between them made him fidgety, made his heart pound in anxiety, and he was sure that if he just moved his right foot just a smidgeon to the side, he would bump into Tsukishima’s.

He didn’t know if Akaashi, seated next to him, had caught on to the nervousness—and frankly he couldn’t care much.

His eyes hovered over Tsukishima, and the lanky blonde was noticeably uncomfortable himself, keeping his head down and his eyes fully focused on the food before him. Somehow, he regretted ever agreeing to this dinner. Maybe it would have been better off for all of them had Kuroo stood his ground and said no.

At least, that was what he thought.

“SO,” Bokuto spoke with a mouth full of fish and rice, and Kuroo was certain that that was a rice grain that just hit his forehead. “TSUKKI, you wanna tell us what you do? Like, get to know each other over dinner!”

“No, I do not.” Is the reply, and the comical frown that Bokuto shot Tsukishima was almost enough to make Kuroo laugh, with how expressive those eyebrows were—curved down while the corners of his lips were pulled down as far as they could go.

“Tsukishima-kun, it wouldn’t hurt to just tell Kuroo-san more about yourself.” Akaashi helpfully suggested, easily working around that thorny personality like a veteran. If anything, Kuroo was quite shocked at how different Tsukishima was from Hotaru, who was simply quiet and reserved. This person in front of him was not just quiet, he was _guarded_, and not in the passive way that he was used to.

How could one person be so different in front of different people?

The man in front of him paused in thought, face twisted into annoyance, when he looked up straight at Kuroo himself, gaze directed fully into Kuroo’s.

“I work a day job at the local florist, administrative things,” He said, “At night I work around some odd jobs here and there.”

“Woah, I didn’t know that you work at night, Tsukki,” The surprise in Bokuto’s voice was telling enough to Kuroo that probably no one knew what Tsukishima had been doing for the last year, and whether that was concerning or not was something he couldn’t quite decide just yet. “Why didn’t you tell us about that?”

“If you had money problems you should have told us, Tsukishima-san,” Like a concerned parent, Akaashi piped in, setting his chopsticks down to pay close attention to the more serious topic at hand, “We could have helped you.”

“Thank you, but I really don’t need your help,” Tsukishima murmured, looking like he regretted speaking already. “I just needed the extra buck.”

“Yeah, but to the point of working more than one job that should be paying you enough? That’s suicide, Tsukki!” Next to the blonde, Bokuto looked like he was getting more and more riled up, quite upset that someone so close to him had neglected to tell him that he needed help. “How much do you need, we’ll give it to you right away!”

“Look, I already said—I. Don’t. Need. It.” Tsukishima spat out, quickly standing up and pushing the chair back, glaring daggers at all of them as his hands curled into fists, hanging by his sides, “See, this was why I _didn’t_ want to tell you guys. I _don’t want_ your pity, I’m not someone who needs to be rescued like some pathetic little boy!”

And just like that, he watched as his best friends shrunk back into their seats, painfully aware that they had overstepped their boundaries. It didn’t make much sense to Kuroo, really. Why was he hiding so much from Bokuto and Akaashi—the most sweetest friends you could ever hope for? Why was he turning them away? So much didn’t connect in his head, and there was no end to the pile of questions that kept growing in his mind.

Who is Tsukishima Kei? Why, and what, was he hiding from?

“…Sorry, I should go.” It seemed that the rage had gone as quickly as it had come, and like a swift bolt of lightning, he had rushed to grab his belongings in a bid for quick escape. As he walked past the table once more, the man quickly bowed towards all of them, before he left through the door—the resounding click echoing in the silence.

The three of them sat in silence at the dinner table, surrounded by an air of thick tension, as if a fog had filled the room.

“Um,” Kuroo was the first one to break the silence, the quiet that had made him so dang uncomfortable, “What just happened?”

“Sorry you had to see that, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing over to his friend quite apologetically. “We shouldn’t have been that pushy with Tsukishima-san. We were in the wrong.”

“No, we weren’t,” Bokuto slammed his fists against the table in front of him, looking quite peeved with his expression scrunched up into frustration and upset, the dishes jangling from the force of impact, “He _never_ asks us for help! He’s always throwing himself headfirst into danger just so he doesn’t have to _burden_ us or some shit along those lines!”

“Koutarou-san,” Akaashi firmly said, his tone of finality putting a hold on Bokuto’s line of argument before he could go any further. “There is a reason for why he chose not to tell us. We could respect that much, at least.”

It seemed to Kuroo that his friends were at their wits end, as if this wasn’t a one-time-thing that had occurred. For all he knew, it could have been years and years of trying to help out Tsukishima in… whatever they thought he needed help with, but this frustration didn’t come for no reason.

No matter how hard they tried to hide it, he could tell, those faces told him everything about how helpless they felt, how annoyed they were by the situation at hand, even if they were trying their hardest to help their friend out of it.

And no matter what he said that night, there was nothing he could do to bring up the mood. Nothing he could say to get his friends to stop worrying. As he walked through the heart of the city on his way back home that night, the quiet determination to set things right grew in his heart, and he pulled out his phone to send a text to Tsukishima.

\---  
_Meet me next week, as always, a little earlier this time. _

_Who do you want to meet, Hotaru? Or Tsukishima Kei?_

_Tsukishima Kei, please._

_Ok._

_\---_

“This better be good,” Comes the curt, snappy voice, somewhere above Kuroo’s head, “I don’t have all the time in the world to sit and chat.”

Kuroo wasn’t that eager to be here on a Friday night, really. He had chosen one of the quieter cafes located in the city, the kind that wouldn’t attract the partygoers and thrillseekers with its down-to-earth aesthetic and quiet business crowd. But even then, this place was _packed_, and he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to carry out this line of question in a place where everyone could here, for Tsukishima’s sake.

Well, he had to. He couldn’t simply sit back and watch things unfold before his eyes and _not_ act. But first, he had to get down to the root of the problem—Tsukishima’s story itself.

“Sorry, sorry. I just wanted to chat,” Kuroo said, all smiles as usual as he gestured to the seat in front of him. “I won’t keep you longer than necessary, Tsuk—”

“Hotaru. Just call me Hotaru.”

Ouch. He had considered himself to be close to him at this stage, after so many nights spent together without any complaint from the blonde. But maybe he had assumed too much, the person he thought he knew was a shrouded in a fog of mystery, and the sudden standoffish-ness shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did.

But it didn’t mean it didn’t leave his heart stung and wounded.

Kuroo’s lips curled into the biggest smile he could muster, pushing the menu board toward his companion.

“Here, pick anything from the menu. My treat, ‘Tarucchan~.”

Tsukishima pulled the board towards himself, his eyes squinted suspiciously from underneath his thin-wire frames. To Kuroo, he looked very much like a suspicious cat, hiding just out of sight from a suspicious person that had suddenly appeared near his home. It was cute, adorable even, and he couldn’t help but smile, just a little.

“Thanks,” Tsukishima mumbled, his eyes glancing downward to scan over the menu after a while, remaining suspicious still, “So. What did you want to talk about?”

“How are you feeling? From last week I mean.”

It wasn’t as straight to the point as he had hoped, but he knew that he wasn’t going to get _anywhere_ if he was too much for Tsukishima to handle. Treading carefully was his best bet at the moment.

“I’m fine.” Tsukishima replied, pulling the small slip of paper out of the stack of order sheets, then scribbling his order in elegant characters—cursive print looping and curving.

“You know, you can tell me anything, ‘Tarucchan. I might not be the best guy to dish out advice or something, but I can guarantee you that I’ll listen really well. Reeeeeeal well. I’ll even hold out my ears like this to hear you better!”

Kuroo pushed up his hands to cup both his ears, knowing he looked quite silly like that. He watched as the corners of Tsukishima’s lips twitched ever so slightly, and he knew that his little antics had at least succeeded in making the other man feel a little better.

“I won’t tell you anything if you’re here to lecture me, Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima placed down the pencil on the table, handing the slip of paper to a passing waiter before he turned his head back towards his companion, his expression as serious as ever. He wasn’t used to seeing him like this, and Kuroo had to wonder to himself exactly _how much_ did he know about him. “I won’t hesitate to leave immediately if you do.”

“Look, Tsu—I mean, _Hotaru_. I’m not here to tell you how bad at adulting you are, I’m here as a friend. So, why not consider me as some confessional? _Oh daddy, I’ve been naughty_ confessional?”

“It’s _forgive me father, for I have sinned_,” Tsukishima rolled his eyes and crossed his eyes, leaning back against the chair, “I have nothing much to say, really. I just needed the extra cash, that very much is true. It’s Akaa-san and Bokuto-san who probed too much into it.”

“But they care for you, that’s why they reacted the way they did.”

Really, Kuroo didn’t think that he had to spell out the obvious for Tsukishima. No doubt the blonde knew damn well that their friends were very concerned for him, but the sour look on his face told him that there was more than meets the eye.

“I know, I… I know they care. That’s why I don’t want them to help.” The mumble was so soft that it was almost hard to catch. But Kuroo caught it, latched onto it—never wanting to let Tsukishima feel like he was ignored.

In this crowded little café where the faceless mingled, there was only one person that mattered to him. He wasn’t going to allow this meeting to be for nothing, no.

The waiter passed by as they sat in momentary silence, the older of the two watching Tsukishima’s cup be set in front of him—the steam from the warm contents slowly swaying from side to side before it dissipated into nothingness.

“But why?” Kuroo asked as the waiter left, the two of them finally alone once again.

“I’ve honestly burdened them too much over the years,” Tsukishima’s lips curled into a smile, but nothing in his expression told him he was happy. His eyes looked regretful, downcast as his long and limber fingers played with the handle of the white porcelain cup in front of him. “I shouldn’t expect to receive any more help than they’ve already provided me with before.”

“But that’s what friends are for, aren’t they,” Kuroo interjected as he leaned towards Tsukishima, his full focus placed on the man as he listened to him wholeheartedly, “Friends will always be there to catch you in your bad times.”

“Besides, you’d do the same for Akaashi and Bokuto if they were in trouble too, right?”

There was no doubt that he was right—in fact, he _knew_ he was right. There wasn’t anything wrong with relying on your friends at all, it was just natural to want to protect those you loved.

“I don’t want them to worry about me, I don’t want them to be disappointed in me,” Tsukishima’s voice quivered slightly, although his face stayed as indifferent as it could. He couldn’t tell if he was forcing it, but the tender feelings in his words made Kuroo feel for him. “I don’t want to let them down.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell them you’re an escort?”

Bingo.

Tsukishima’s face hardened as he kept his gaze straight on the milky-brown surface of his barely-touched cup, his fingers absentmindedly tracing over the handle’s shape while he seemed lost in thought. Meanwhile, Kuroo only had to wonder if he toed too far over the line.

As Hotaru, he knew where their relationship started and ended. There was nothing that seemed to connect them as escort as client, besides the paid fucking that occurred every week. He knew what he could and could not touch, and the comfort of knowing that Hotaru would never get upset at him had been enough. It had always been enough until now.

As Tsukishima, Kuroo had no idea. The raw emotion he showed was much different from what he was used to seeing, and he had no idea how much he could push until the younger man slipped through his fingers and retreated into his shell. There was so much learning and unlearning to be done, but it didn’t change any of the feelings he felt for the person sitting in front of him.

So, Hotaru or Tsukishima, Kuroo would reach out as far as he could, to try to grab a hold of this enigma sitting before him.

“You act like you know me so well,” Tsukishima bitterly chuckled as he finally picked up his cup, pressing the porcelain rim against his lips as he tipped his head back, taking a sip. “Aren’t you going to laugh? Pathetic, aren’t I.”

“I think you’re strong.” Is the only natural reply Kuroo had for him, because what on earth was this guy saying? There wasn’t anyone he knew who was willingly going through shit, acting like their life’s problems were just something that they had asked for. And for that alone, he knew that Tsukishima was a strong person—simply pessimistic in nature.

“I think you’re strong,” He repeated, this time making sure that his eyes made contact with Tsukishima’s—hoping that the emotions he held behind those words were perfectly expressed even without him needing to say it outright. “And I know that Akaashi and Bokuto think so too. But strength isn’t found by just working hard and hoping to solve your problems on your own.”

“We know you’re strong, that’s why we want to help. ‘Cause you matter to us, okay?”

He knew he wasn’t close enough to him to talk like he was anywhere close to being important to Tsukishima, but what did it matter? He wanted to be genuine with his words, and not give him some half-assed response that meant nothing in the long run.

Tsukishima’s tense frame seemed to relax, even if just a little, and his expression softened in a rare moment of vulnerability.

“When I was in high school, my father left us in a lot of debt,” He spoke in quiet voice, just enough for Kuroo to hear. “My brother didn’t go to college and worked as hard as he could just so that he could send me school, so that my mother didn’t have to worry about not having enough money to feed all of us.”

His tone sounded avoidant, pained even—and Kuroo couldn’t help but feel incredibly sorry for the man that had gone through all sorts of shit in his life, especially when it was inflicted by someone of his own flesh and blood.

“So you want to pay back your brother?” Kuroo asked, the puzzle pieces fitting itself together in his head faster than he consciously realised. The blonde shrugged, pulling his mug a little closer towards him as his hands wrapped around it, like a little barrier placed between the both of them.

“That, and I want to send him to college too. It’s only fair that I do so after all he’s done for me.”

Kind, thoughtful and filial. He knew that there were sides to Tsukishima that he had never seen before, but after their chat tonight, he had a newfound respect for the man than he had before—not that he didn’t respect him in the first place. Tsukishima was strong, and so much more than he himself was aware of.

“The money from my _other_ job is good,” He added on, “My day job isn’t enough, and my brother isn’t getting any younger. I don’t know how Bokuto-san and Akaashi-san would react to me being an escort for this reason. They’d offer to pay it off for me, but that’ll just make me indebted to more people.”

While the reasoning wasn’t _quite_ as clear-cut as he would have expected it to be, Kuroo didn’t have it in him to tell Tsukishima just that. This sense of duty was rare, hard to find in _anybody_ these days—so he just had to respect it.

“I won’t tell them,” Kuroo finally said, his own lips curving up into a warm, benevolent smile, “Under the condition that you let me support your choices by paying you a little more for your services.”

“Kuroo-san, I can’t—”

“Please, I insist. I want to help out a friend,” His smile disappeared as fast as it had come, and he surprised _himself_ with how serious he sounded. _Friend, huh._ He didn’t know this sinking feeling he felt in his heart, but at the very least, Tsukishima _was _a friend. “Just consider it as me paying for tax.”

“Tax,” Tsukishima repeated with incredulity, his expression _so telling_ of what he was thinking, “You want to pay tax.”

It was so cute, the way his nose wrinkled and his eyes squinted. No matter how untouchable Tsukishima thought himself to be, Kuroo _lived_ for these little bouts of expression that were rare from the man himself. He wanted to see more, he _ached_ for more. Kuroo chuckled and nodded, reaching over to gently press his hand over the rim of Tsukishima’s mug—his face so close to the blonde’s in that simple movement.

“What can I say? I’m a law-abiding citizen.”

The eyeroll he received caused his heart to flop in his chest—and he knew there was no escaping falling in love with Tsukishima Kei.

\---

“Tsukki,” Kuroo drawled as Tsukishima walked into his apartment a couple of days later, all bundled up in a couple of layers to protect him from the chilling wind outside, “Welcome to my humble abode~.”

He bit down on his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud when he saw his face twist with almost-disgust. Never before had Tsukishima been this open to showing anything other than a professional attitude with him, so to see something other than a neutral face was absolutely refreshing.

“Again, it’s Hotaru, Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima repeatedly himself as he turned his head towards his client, that adorable wrinkle between his eyebrows nestling itself on his forehead as his annoyance was made apparent, “I don’t go on first name basis with clients.”

“Oh my God, you wound me so,” Kuroo slapped his hands over his forehead and his chest, leaning back with an overly-dramatic pained expression on his face, “I thought I meant more to you, ‘Tarucchan. We were once lovers, _souls intertwined_.”

“Are you sure you’re older than me?” The blonde replied, clicking his tongue in irritation while he placed his bag down and pulled off his coat. The rains were unrelenting around this time of the year, after all, and nights like these had the monsoon breeze blow through his house from his veranda.

The man lightly hooked his coat on the hanger mounted against the wall, and Kuroo could hear the light jangling of keys inside a pocket. It was nice to hear Tsukishima’s footsteps against the wooden floor, filling the quiet just a little more—enough to make it feel like a home. It seemed that Tsukishima liked being here too, as he made a beeline straight for the couch.

It warmed his heart, really, to think that Tsukki himself might have an attachment to this place himself.

“We don’t talk anymore like we used to do~.” Kuroo sang, picking up the yellow mug of tea he had prepared in advance prior to Tsukishima’s arrival, the fresh oolong blend he knew the blonde liked so much. The aroma of the leaves wafted under his nose as he handed the drink to the escort.

Pampering Tsukishima was always a favourite of his. Watching as the tired man seemed to brighten up ever so slightly as his nose caught the refreshing aroma, Kuroo could capture the sight of Tsukishima’s eyes widening a little bit in their silent show of happiness, and store that memory in his heart forever—keeping it only to himself.

He could only wonder how it would be if they were more than this, like lovers. Imagining the blonde come home to him like this all the time, supplied with endless cups of tea that Kuroo would happily make for him.

It was a dream he could only wish to achieve. But for now, this was enough—sitting with Tsukishima like this.

“I won’t hesitate to stop coming, you know,” Tsukishima rolled his eyes and muttered, before he quickly took a sip of the warm liquid that he seemed to have wanted for a long time. It was cold tonight, and Kuroo felt a little guilty for making him come all the way on such a windy night. “I could quite easily just stop taking your calls.”

“Alright, alright,” Kuroo laughed as he watched the man sit down on his plush couch, the soft fabric sinking under his weight as he followed suit—making himself comfortable next to Tsukishima. He even felt bold enough to press his arm up against Tsukishima’s, bodies pressed flush against each other. “I’ll quit teasin’ ya.” 

The younger man’s nose wrinkled in disgruntlement, but he didn’t move way—allowing himself to relax against the older man’s frame.

The two sat in silence as he listened to the sounds of the night. A dog barked in the distance as the cars rushed past on the street under his apartment. Beside him, he listened to the quiet slurping from Tsukishima, and he could only feel himself sink further and further into comfort and familiarity.

What if he had this to keep? He wondered how it’d be like to sit on the couch with his arms wrapped around him tightly, as the two of them lazed the night away after a long day at work. Maybe they would even adopt a cat, and have the little creature purr like a tractor under their arms in comfortable silence.

That would be the life, the life that he could only _dream_ of.

“Hey,” Kuroo suddenly asked, surprising even himself as he cut the silence, feeling the body jerk slightly against his in astonishment, “Next Friday, do you think we could do something together?”

“Next Friday? We always meet on Fridays, Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima mumbled, glancing to him curiously while the mug sat snugly in his palms, “We’re always doing something.”

“What I mean to say is,” He cleared his throat, feeling a sudden bout of embarrassment heat up his face entirely. He wondered how he looked like to Tsukishima now, because this tensing in his face was surely making him look all sorts of whack, “You wanna go on a date with me?”

What was he asking? _Why_ was he asking? He didn’t even know how Tsukishima would take to his sudden question. He didn’t even _know_ if Tsukishima wanted to be involved with him like _that_, or who he was to him.

He could only brace himself for the inevitable anger, the storming off that would surely come if he just waited a little more.

“Okay.”

Huh?

“What did you just say?” Kuroo’s eyes widened as he felt himself freeze up out of shock, astonished that he hadn’t be outright rejected by the man he really, really liked.

“I said, let’s go on a date. Don’t make me repeat myself, I could very easily change my mind.”

Kuroo had gone over this exact situation countless of times in his head, running over each and every potential outcome like a seasoned detective mulling through each and every case like it was his own baby. But all the Tsukishimas in his head never ever said yes to him, and it had always been varying degrees of rejection.

What do to now? He didn't know either. He hadn't prepared himself for the outcome where Tsukishima would even _think or consider _going out with him on a date.

"Uh," He quickly stumbled over his words, finding it hard to form coherent sentences in his silent shock, "If that's the case. Um. Where do you wanna go?"

"So you don't have any plans?" Tsukishima scoffed quietly, looking down to his hands with disbelief plastered all over his face--probably already reeling from regret in taking up his offer. "I like going on walks, I guess. Where we go is fully up to you."

"You trust me enough to not drag you into some creepy ass building and murder you?" Kuroo chortled, his natural mischievous streak already kicking in and leading him by the nose, "I'm kidding. I'll make this date a good one, I promise."

"I've seen you naked, Kuroo-san. Don't underestimate me." The sarcasm oozed from his simple reply, but it was quite clear to him that the blonde held no malice in his words. It was always good, clean fun when it came to Tsukishima. He was someone who could match with him in what Bokuto liked to call a _"horrible, backhanded personality". _

Someone who could rein him in without fail, someone who could push him forward if need be. Even if their relationship ended as client and escort, that didn't change the fact that over the course of the last few months with Tsukki--he had fallen in love head first, without anything akin to a safety net to catch him.

Good or bad? He didn't know for now. He just wanted to bask in his presence, to enjoy his time with Tsukishima without caring for the consequences.

"You gotta admit though, I am _hot," _Kuroo smirked, using his elbow to lightly nudge his companion in the arm in a teasing fashion, and he laughed when he accidentally pushed him a little too far once--causing the blonde to make a disgruntled sound. "I'm probably one of your hotter clients, y'know! Who else could resist drooling over my sweet bod?"

In such a sophisticated, elegant manner, Tsukishima placed the mug down on the glass coffee table in front of them, and he turned his body toward the smirking cat-like man sitting next to him--before promptly shoving him off the couch with as much strength as those thin arms could muster.

\---

In his long years of being here on planet Earth, there were many times where Kuroo remembered himself to be nervous, jittery even. The memories of high school came to mind, where he could vividly remember his heart pounding in his chest when he chanced upon his youthful crush in the hallways, or outside of school.

He could remember things like his sweaty, clammy palms balled into fists as he scanned a large name list on the noticeboards sitting outside of his classrooms, his eyes moving upwards as he hunted for his name and his grades--after studying to the point of exhaustion during one of his mid-year tests in his last year of high school.

Heck, there was even that one time where he could feel the anxiety sit in his stomach like a pit of dread as he sat in that huge gymnasium--forced to keep a straight face as he kept himself standing tall like the high school volleyball captain he was supposed to be, during one of his final matches and his final grab for national honor and glory.

Despite all that, standing here in the middle of a bustling street at night had to be one of the most nerve-wrecking things he's ever had to do. His heart pounded at his ribcage, begging to be let out like it was a prison cell. His hands were slippery, and he had nearly dropped his wallet when he had to pay for the small bouquet of roses earlier on.

He even regretted putting on one of his best shirts, because the heat of the urban jungle in early Fall should have never been underestimated. He could only pray that the sweaty feeling in his pits _stayed _on his bits, and didn't touch the nice plaid shirt he had thrown on before leaving the house earlier in the evening.

A date with Tsukishima shouldn't be this panic attack-inducing, but it was.

Many things could go wrong on this date. What if he accidentally spilled coffee all over his date? What if he said something so wrong that Tsukishima got mad and left--or worse, never spoke to him again?

These thoughts buzzed around his head like an annoying pest unwilling to die, but they were thankfully interrupted when he felt a tap on his arm from someone standing behind him.

In the magic of the city lights, he saw him standing there so effortlessly, like this didn't bother him at all. But the way Tsukishima carried himself in an outfit that had _clearly_ been carefully coordinated lit a fire in his heart--the hope that the blonde cared about this date just as much as he did.

No matter how many times he saw him naked, nothing could really beat how Tsukishima looked gorgeous in everything he wore. Heck, Kuroo would think that he looked spectacular even if the blonde was wearing nothing but a rice sack! But the way his black turtle-neck sweater clung to his body and accentuated how slim he was, alongside the jeans that hugged his nice legs? Astounding. He wanted to stay in this moment and never move ever again.

"You're staring," Tsukishima spoke first, his lithe hands running over his torso as he seemed to nervously smooth out the wrinkles in his clothes--but Kuroo could see very clearly that there was nothing of the sort, "Um. Did you wait long?"

"No, not at all. I just waited five minutes." Kuroo assured him, clearing his throat and ridding himself the feeling of a frog sitting in his gullet. He felt like his heart had crawled itself up into his throat, trying to break out via his mouth. The dryness didn't help one bit, and he was basically begging for a drink at this point.

"Do you want to grab a coffee? I know someplace close by. It's good, they have really good blends." Tsukishima dropped his hands in front of him, lacing his fingers together tightly as he looked around, the city lights reflecting off of his glasses like a beautiful starry night.

_It's all out or nothing, dude, _he could hear Bokuto's voice echo in his head, _go big or go home._

Damn that fucking owl.

"Let's go," Kuroo reached out, pushing the anxious thoughts into the back of his head as he pushed his larger hand between both of Tsukishima's, before lacing his fingers with one of Tsukishima's hands. He tugged him forward as he pushed himself to walk on, not daring to steal a glance at him in that subtle, muted fear that he’d be met with disgust or rejection. "I'm a little thirsty. You gotta show me the best blend they got, y’hear me?"

"Okay." He heard the quiet voice say, barely audible over the murmur of the city, the honks and beeps mingling with conversations of lives passing by theirs.

He could have sworn that he imagined it, but he felt Tsukishima's hand tighten on his, holding on to him while their warmth mixed together.

**Author's Note:**

> [come say hi!](https://twitter.com/nekohmy)


End file.
